


Would You Like Fries With That?

by mikaylamazing



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-07-02 22:19:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15805671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikaylamazing/pseuds/mikaylamazing
Summary: Dean's working at McDonald's for the summer where activities include serving fifty chicken nuggets to a guy in a trench coat at 3 in the morning.





	Would You Like Fries With That?

“If I have to look at one more fucking fry I’m gonna kill myself,” Dean shouts. He even slams his hands on the counter because they currently have no customers. Not even in the drive-through. It’s been this way for well over an hour.

“Geez, and I thought I was dramatic. We only have two more hours to go, and I personally would not feel comfortable knowing your ghost was roaming these greasy floors,” Charlie replies. She’s been wiping the same spot on the same table for a while now, but Dean figures she’s feeling just as testy as he is, so he says nothing.

“I’m sure a ghost haunting the place would make the job a hell of a lot more exciting though. I’ll take one for the team.” They both have been working the graveyard shift all summer because, hey, they’re college students who need the money and nobody else was fighting for the spot in the timesheet. Needless to say, they were both pretty dead by the end of the first week. It’s nearing the end of the fifth week, and Dean wishes he were dead. He thinks this recent fixation on death probably isn’t a good sign as to how things are going, but he can mostly ignore it.

“That sounds real interesting, but we have a customer you have to tend to.” Charlie points to the screen indicating that, yes, someone is at the drive-through. At 3:26 am. On a Thursday. Though Dean’s not complaining; at least he finally has something to do.

“Welcome to McDonald’s, would you like to try our-”

“No, I need fifty chicken nuggets and a large coke, please.” The guy’s voice is loud and decisive, and it wakes Dean up a little.

“Did… did you just say ’fifty McNuggets,’ sir?” Dean asks, hesitantly. He’s running on four hours of sleep, can he really be sure of anything right now?

“No, I’m pretty sure I said ’fifty chicken nuggets’ because I normally leave out any unnecessary syllables that only clarify brand, which this establishment is so fond of doing for some reason.” Dean stands where he is; stunned that anyone can string together a full sentence at this time, much less one with that many words.

“Okay, yeah dude, fifty nuggets, coming right up. Your total is-”

“Thank you.” The interaction is the first Dean’s had in hours (besides Charlie) and it mostly made him want to laugh and then cry. Charlie is looking at him bemusedly, obviously confused as to what just happened.

“Fifty chicken nuggets, Bradbury,” he says as calmly as he possibly can before he busts out laughing like he’s never laughed in his life. He was maybe a little delirious at this point.

“I’m sorry, did you just say fifty?”

“Yeah, I did.” He’s still laughing, and while Charlie looks very concerned, she starts putting the order together.

“Is this dude aware of the fact that it’s almost 4 am? Why does he need fifty of ‘em?” Charlie asks as she folds over the top of the bag, handing it over to Dean.

“I don’t know, I didn’t exactly start a conversation with the guy, Charlie.” She just rolls her eyes at him as he walks back over to the window. When he opens it up to take the guy’s money he’s just staring in menacingly. Dean’s definitely seen creepier, but he can’t say he’s not feeling a little unsettled.

“Um, $14.37, please.” The way Dean says it makes it sound like a question, like he’d totally give this dude his fifty nuggets, coke, and all the money in the register if he just asked for it.

“Of course,” he says, handing over a 20 dollar bill. Dean takes note of the fact that his voice is incredibly deep and gravelly, and for a split second, he feels more intrigued than terrified. He shakes his head and hands over change and then the bag.

“Thank you,” the guy says, rolling up his window immediately and peeling out of the drive-through. Dean is feeling every emotion in the book, but he’s mostly tired and just wants to go home. The next two hours go by in a blur.

\---

Dean wakes up at 3 in the afternoon, extremely disoriented and just wanting some breakfast, maybe pancakes. His mom isn’t working today which is the best feeling in the world and he doesn’t even have to break out the pouty lips and ‘mommy’ before she’s asking what he wants to eat.

“Pancakes, please,” he says, still wiping the sleep from his eyes, but now with a smile on his face. Sam is sitting at the kitchen table, looking through textbooks and writing in a binder.

“Dude, it’s summer. Isn’t it a little early to be doing homework?” he asks through a yawn, sitting in the chair opposite Sam. Sam glares at him.

“It’s for my AP classes. Not that you’d know anything about that…” Sam says, going back to jotting notes.

“AP sounds like more work, which sounds like I’ll pass. What does it matter anyway; I’m in college.”

“Some of us wanna get out of the state of Kansas, Dean.”

“What’s wrong with Kansas?”

“And some of us want full-ride scholarships so we don’t have to work part-time taking orders and explaining to strangers why you can’t ring them up for a large cup of Big Mac sauce.” Dean doesn’t have a clever response to that because Sam is right. Working fast food is hell and more often than not he does wish he had just worked harder in school so he wouldn’t have as much trouble. Not much he can do about it now though.

“Not all of us can be smart, Sam,” Dean says, taking a sheet of paper and folding it into an airplane. A pretty awesome airplane if anyone asks.

“You’re smart, Dean. You just make really stupid decisions. Exhibit A: taking the graveyard shift five days a week,” Sam says, finally putting down his pencil and conceding to the fact that he won’t get any more work done until Dean leaves.

“I’m making a hell of a lot more money than the people who didn’t take the graveyard shift so it wasn’t that stupid of a decision,” Dean says crossing his arms and smirking.

“You literally look like you died last night.” Dean’s smirk drops off his face.

“Oh yeah, well let’s see how you look after serving chicken nuggets to a cryptid.”

“That’s a fun sentence,” their mom pipes in from where she stands in front of the stove, ladling pancake batter into a pan.

“What are you talking about?” Sam asks. He takes the finished paper plane and throws it across the room. It glides beautifully and Dean frowns because he wanted to be the first one to throw it. Can’t he have anything these days?

“Some dude showed up in the middle of the night at the drive through asking for fifty chicken nuggets and a large coke. Like, that’s it. He was so weird and his voice was all gravelly and he had these weirdly blue eyes, like glowing…” Dean trails off but Sam’s eyebrows are raised and he’s exchanging a knowing look with their mother and Dean wants in on the joke.

“What? I hate it when you guys do that.” Dean looks back and forth between them, but Sam starts whistling and his mom just puts a plate of pancakes down on the table in front of him.

“Seriously, what?” He’s not gonna eat his fucking breakfast (at 3:30 pm) until he knows what’s going on.

“Oh, nothing, nothing at all,” Sam says teasingly, before he spits out the word ‘gay’ in between fake coughs. Dean blinks.

“What are you implying? That I’m attracted to the weird McDonald’s cryptid guy?” Dean asks as his dad walks into the dining room.

“Should I leave?” he asks, already taking steps backward. Dean doesn’t even hear him.

“First of all, it took a lot to come out as bi, so I’d appreciate some accuracy when you wanna accuse me of finding creepy dudes hot,” Dean says indignantly, because how dare Sam even think that. He saw the guy for like two seconds, that’s not enough time to know if someone is hot, right?

“‘You’re so bi’ just doesn’t roll off the tongue the same way,” Sam says, shrugging his shoulders. Their mom is still standing there, smiling. Their dad is no longer in the room.

“Secondly, he was creepy as hell, and like, 5 years older than me, probably. I don’t think he’s hot,” Dean says, standing now for some reason.

“You had that stupid, dreamy voice when you were talking about his glowing blue eyes.” His mom laughs and that’s it.

“You know what? I don’t need this. I’m taking my pancakes to my room to eat, and there’s nothing anyone can do about it because I am an adult.” He can hear them laughing as he climbs up the stairs.

\---

“The guy wasn’t hot, right?” Dean asks after 10 minutes of silence. It’s another night of just him, Charlie, and some new guy Dean can’t remember the name of. Charlie rolls her eyes.

“Fifty nuggets guy? You know I’m a lesbian and literally like, the worst person to ask, right?”

“You have eyes! You’re not blind.”

“I saw him for two like a split second through a window ten feet away. Why are you so hung up on this guy, anyway? It’s not like you’ll ever see him again,” Charlie says, going back to scrolling through her phone.

“Why would you say that to me? What if he’s the love of my life?” Dean asks, taking the phone out of her hands and holding it away from her.

“You’re so dramatic. In hindsight, I should’ve known you were bi.”

“What if he comes back tonight? What am I gonna do?” Dean starts pacing in the small area behind the registers until Charlie blocks his path and takes her phone back.

“Then you take his order and act normal, you freak. Although, I highly doubt it’ll even happen so stop getting so worked up over it.” Dean inhales. The exhale is shaky.

“You’re right. He probably wasn’t even hot, it’s totally just my brain playing tricks on me. He wasn’t hot.” Dean nods to himself and Charlie is looking more concerned by the second.

“Right… Well, look alive, we’ve got a customer pulling up-”

“Oh my god, what if it’s him?”

“I said, ‘look alive,’ not ‘give yourself a heart attack’.”

It’s not the guy, and Dean is kind of disappointed even though that’s completely stupid. What would he even do if the guy came back? Last time he barely let Dean take his order, he doubts he’ll let him compliment the blue of his eyes. Dean is firmly on the rational thinking train right until another car pulls up sixteen minutes later and despite only hearing it for about a minute combined, Dean is ashamed to say he could probably recognize the voice anywhere now.

“I will have three large fries, no salt, please,” he says. This guy doesn’t fuck around and it pisses Dean off so much.

“You want a drink with that?” he asks sarcastically, already motioning to Charlie to drop some more fries.

“Yes, thank you for reminding me. I will need a large vanilla latte. With skim milk. Thank you.” Dean wants to roll his eyes but for some reason he can’t. The guy is really formal and it’s kinda cute. Dean knows that he has like, zero sense of self-preservation, and so he doesn’t stop himself from making a potentially huge mistake. Doesn’t even try. He tells the guy his order total and then breathes in.

“Take your time, Bradbury. I’ve gotta talk to this guy,” Dean says with what would be a smug look, but he’s just a little too nervous to actually pull it off. He hopes the guy won’t be able to tell, but he seems like someone who can smell fear.

“What? You’re actually talking to him? What if he’s serial killer on another one of his murderous rampages?”

“Not much he can do when I’m behind a window. Besides, I really doubt he’s a serial killer.”

“You’ve met him once!”

“I can read people. Now start ‘preparing the order’.”

“Why did you do air quotes -” Charlie’s cut off mid sentence when Dean turns around and opens the window to the already-waiting man. He looks just a tad bit impatient, and in a state of panic, Dean’s mind starts racing.

“So, how are you on this night? Or I guess morning technically, but I mean, don’t know about you, but I don’t consider it morning until the sun rises. Though I guess that doesn’t really matter when -”

“I’m extremely tired. I want my food and my coffee,” the man says, cutting right through Dean’s rambling, and Dean is pretty sure he actually flinched when he started talking.

“Yeah, yeah, of course. Sorry to keep you waiting, it’s just -”

“What is my total again? I’m trying to find exact change,” the man says, and Dean can see his hand searching the center console.

“Oh, uh, $8.94. Sorry about the wait,” Dean says, holding his hands out for the handful of crumpled dollar bills and coins the man is dropping in his general direction.

“It is not a problem, though I did not expect there to be a wait considering there are no other customers here. At all,” the guy says, and it’s not in the nicest, most polite tone of voice Dean’s ever heard and he completely understands why. It still sounds pretty hot though.

“Right, right. I’ll get your order right now.” Dean turns around and takes the paper bag and cup from a silent, wide-eyed Charlie, and clears his throat before handing them over to the guy whose name he still doesn’t know because he didn’t get to ask because he’s an idiot.

“Here you go, sir. Sorry again,” Dean says with a smile which the man does not even attempt to return. He places the bag in the passenger side footwell and takes off without another word with the coffee in his hand. Dean feels like he can finally breathe again.

“So, what was that about him being the - what did you say? - ‘love of your life’?” Charlie asks, and she can’t stop herself from laughing. Dean doesn’t blame her. He has a pathetic life, and he says pathetic things about it.

“Alright, I get it. No more trying to converse with weird guys during the night shift.”

\---

Dean is bored. He never thought he would actively miss college and want to go back. Work is monotonous; he does the same thing every day (or every night), for hours, and for what? A measly paycheck? He doesn’t need money. He doesn’t need to go to school. It’s all a scam anyway, what does it matter?

Dean is halfway through typing ‘where can i find a sugar daddy?’ into the google search bar when Charlie walks into his room and sits beside him.

“Don’t you knock?” Dean asks, he doesn’t even try to close his laptop though. Charlie knows what he’s like.

“Um, no. Literally never,” she looks over at the screen. “Really, Dean? Again?” She takes the laptop away and puts it aside while Dean lets out a sound halfway between an annoyed sigh and a pained groan.

“C’mon. We’re supposed to be at work in approximately ten minutes and I don’t have time to convince you. Either you come with me right now or I leave without you,” Charlie says. She’s lying, Dean knows. She stands up like she’s about to walk out the door and then turns back to him.

“Is this just because that guy you liked ended up being an asshole? Because that’s not new for you.” 

“No. Maybe I just don’t see the point in becoming a meaningless cog in the machine of capitalist society,” Dean says, sprawling back on his bed. Charlie grasps one of his wrists in both of her hands and pulls forcefully. It actually kinda hurts so Dean stands.

“You need money if you’re still planning on coming to Comic-Con with me. There’s a little repayment you need to provide me, in case you’ve forgotten. You do wanna go, right?” she asks him, looking up with raised eyebrows and she already knows she’s won so Dean’s not even gonna bother fighting.

“Fine. Let’s deep fry this bitch.”

“That’s the positivity I need to hear.”

\---

A whole week of the night shift passes and the guy doesn’t come by for any obscure late-night orders. It’s hard for Dean to not feel disappointed. Exciting things don’t happen very often in his life, and it’s kind of sad that he even found all of this exciting. God, he needs to get out more.

“So, see any cool movies lately?” Charlie asks him with a desperate smile. It’s only about an hour into their shift but his head already feels heavy and his feet are still hurting from the day before. Dean looks at her with tired eyes and an eyebrow raise and she backs off. Dean grabs his phone from his back pocket and swipes through Tinder, just to have something to do. But what’s the point? Nobody is the guy - Dean still really wishes that he knew his name - and everybody else just feels like a disappointment. And it makes no sense. It isn’t fair for this guy to completely brush Dean off while Dean has to suffer with the fact that no one will ever compare to the weird guy he saw in the middle of the night through the McDonald’s drive-through window.

Dean is just about to get swept up by his thoughts and inner angst when someone drives up to the menu board outside. It’s only a little after midnight, far too early for the hot guy so Dean doesn’t get his hopes up. So imagine the spike in his heart rate when he hears the gravelly voice come over his headset.

“Hello, order when you’re ready."

“Hello, I will have four large black coffees. Iced.” Dean’s pulse is in his ears and he’s being way too dramatic right now, but if he’s being honest, he really thought this guy might have just picked a different fast food establishment to frequent since their last encounter.

“Yeah, sure. Your total comes out to $6.37.” The man doesn’t say anything, but it’s expected. Dean is still having trouble breathing. He nearly tips a cup over twice trying to pour the coffee, and Charlie is standing in a corner, looking on like she’s scared to say anything. It’s fine. He carries the drink tray up to the window with shaky hands and breathes in deeply before opening it. It only then occurs to Dean that the man could see everything through the very transparent window and Dean, yet again, feels like an idiot. Whatever.

The man immediately hands over the money, exact change again. Dean isn’t even saying anything. The air feels tense and Dean isn’t sure if it’s all in his head or if the man feels it too. He’s obviously not gonna ask. He puts the money in the register and grips the tray a little too tightly. He successfully gets it through the threshold of the window, and everything is going fine until it’s not. It’s a fault in the hand-off. Dean’s tight grip on the cardboard in addition to the sweat on his fingertips and palms has it sticking to his skin ever so slightly as the man tries to take it from him, causing the entire tray to topple over onto the man’s side of the window.

Coffee splashes down the side of the man’s car door and right into the car itself, some of it hitting him in the face, and Dean is not only never gonna see this guy again, but he’s probably gonna be fired as well. He can’t stop the blush that takes over his entire face and he’s stammering but the man remains stoic which is almost scarier than screaming would have been.

“I am so sorry. I have no idea what happened. I can get you some paper towels and I can get those coffees to you for free if you'll just wait a second. I can-"

"No." The man's voice is sharp. It cuts right through the panicked voices going back and forth in Dean's head and he stops everything for a second. The guy actually looks a little flustered at his own outburst, but it only lasts a second.

"I'm running late. I have to go," he says, all but peeling out of the parking  lot, still drenched in coffee. And Dean's stupidity.

Dean turns around and sees Charlie's mouth gaping. She closes it quickly and tries to transform it into a smile but it looks nervous and uncomfortable and doesn't do much to make Dean feel better.

"At least you probably don't have to worry about seeing him again?" she offers hopefully. Dean feels his chest tighten.

\---

It's so stupid. Dean didn't get fired but he kinda wishes he did. He and Charlie got their few days off to go to San Diego, and they had a good time, but as soon as they got back the days started to seriously drag. There's only a little more than a week before school starts up again and Dean liked to take a few days of break before throwing himself back into homework and studying.

He hasn't seen the late-night drive-through guy since the coffee spilling incident, and Dean recently switched over to a normal day shift to try to bring back some normalcy to his sleep schedule. Not that it would matter once midterms came around.

He knew the guy was just a customer, nothing more than a stranger he had seen a couple times. It still felt like things were left unresolved. He wanted an opportunity to be able to properly apologize and explain himself but it seemed that the setting of a fast food restaurant would never be appropriate.

He sighs and looks and the clock. Only two more minutes until he can take his lunch break. He taps his foot impatiently until the second hand hits the 12 and he practically sprints to a table in the corner, pulling out his phone to distract himself from his thoughts. He only has about a minute to himself before someone is tapping his shoulder and he swears that if it's a customer he might just tell them to fuck off.

"What?-" he starts but then he runs out of words. The guy is a little shorter than Dean would've ever thought but he still has an incredibly intimidating energy about him.

"Hello. Sorry to bother you on your break, I promise this won't take long," the guy says, and Dean really hopes he properly introduces himself so he can quit referring to him as 'the guy' in his head.

"No, no, yeah, that's fine, yeah," Dean rambles stupidly. He just wants the guy to sit down so he can stop looking up at him. He seems to take that cue and sits across from Dean. He wrings his hands like he's nervous and Dean thinks that's insane, but he's pretty pleased that they're on equal footing for once.

"My name is Castiel. I'm not sure if you remember me at all," and wow, not a name Dean ever would have guessed, but somehow it works and fits perfectly.

"You're crazy if you think I could ever forget what were some of the most personally traumatizing occasions in my time working in fast food," Dean laughs, and he feels his cheeks heating up as he remembers literally flinging ice cold coffee over him.

"I'm sorry that memories of me are not particularly good ones." Dean looks up and sees uncertainty in Castiel's eyes and thinks that's wrong.

"Oh, no. Trust me, all of the trauma is my fault. I'm an idiot." Castiel laughs a bit at that and that's probably the most positive reaction he's had to anything Dean has done.

"It wasn't all your fault, Dean," he's almost taken aback until he realizes he's wearing a name tag, "I actually came all the way down here to apologize to you."

"Apologize to me? Why? I mean, it's not like you spilled coffee all over my car," Dean chokes out a laugh but then quickly wonders if he maybe shouldn't bringing up his stupid mistakes.

"No, I may not have done that. But, I was really rude, and I know fast food provides some of the most difficult and least desirable jobs out there. I really had no excuse for acting the way I did." Dean's eyes can't get any wider than they are now. This guy is really saying he's sorry? Just for doing something 80% of the population has done before?

"Dude, it's okay, really. It's not a big deal."

"I just regret my actions. I don't normally carry myself so... brusquely," Castiel says, looking down at the table. "This doesn't really excuse anything but, I'm a TA. I was working basically all summer just grading papers, dozens of them about the exact same thing. It can get a little... tedious." Dean lets himself think that over for a moment.

"Dude, I don't even really like school in general, but working at school? In the summer? Do you just like, hate yourself?" Dean asks, hoping the joking tone of his voice is enough to not upset Castiel. This is the longest conversation they've had and he isn't quite ready for it to be over yet.

"Apparently, though I could say the same to you about your choice of employment." Okay, Dean deserves that and he's totally right. This place sucks and he really can't see himself going through this again for minimum wage.

"So, you grade papers and hate your life. I still don't see how me, and McDonald's, and 3 am factor into all of this."

"Oh, that is really quite simple. Staying up that late, eventually the lines start to blur together. Nothing can get a person past that aside from disgustingly greasy food and caffeine. This just happens to be the closest 24-hour location to where we usually work."

"We?"

"Yes, a few fellow TAs and I work in a group, so as to deter giving up and falling asleep. It's a pretty good system, if I'm being honest." Dean thinks again. He can imagine Castiel and three or four other poor suckers hunched over their laptops, eyes bloodshot, sipping from disposable coffee cups and honesty, he can say he much prefers the grease and late hours. At least the actual work is at a minimum.

"So, what, they just assigned you to be the guy who runs out and orders obscure amounts of food in the early morning?" Dean doesn't think that's fair but on the other hand maybe driving out to the local McDonald's was just what one needed to break up the monotony of reading ten-page essays all night.

"We normally take shifts." There's a lull where Dean is almost certain Cas is gonna keep talking. But he doesn't.

"So what, they just forced you to keep doing it?" Dean laughs but he notices a blush taking over Castiel's face and. Huh. That's new.

"Not exactly." Castiel can't meet his eyes but when he finally looks up Dean raises his eyebrows inquisitively. He takes a deep breath before he continues.

"I wanted to keep doing it," Castiel says, and he's almost definitely trying to imply something but Dean is just a little too slow right now to get it. Castiel rolls his eyes but it's kinda cute, so Dean doesn't take too much offense.

"I wanted to keep seeing you," he says, and the light blush on his cheeks spreads and darkens. He's no longer making eye contact with Dean. Dean gets it now. He gets it, but he absolutely doesn't.

"Me? Not to insult your taste, but I am a literal fucking trainwreck. I spilled coffee on you. And your car," Dean says, his heart rate fluctuating rapidly. This, along with all the artery-clogging food he's eaten all summer, can't be good for his health. Castiel just laughs like it's a fond memory of his. Maybe it is. Dean comes to the conclusion that he will never understand people.

"Trust me when I say it wasn't a big deal," Castiel shrugs, like that'll make Dean believe him more. But he's still got a cute grin on his face so Dean is at least half-inclined to think he's telling the truth.

"But it was your car. You sped off like you needed to do it to avoid killing me or something." Castiel's smile falters ever so slightly.

"I'm really sorry for how rude I've been during each of our encounters."

"What?" Dean keeps getting more and more confused because it's not like Castiel didn't have the right to be upset and annoyed and ultimately just slightly rude to Dean. Dean was flying off the hinges every time he so much as heard Castiel's voice, he kinda deserved a few choice words and angry tire squealing.

"Admittedly, the first time was just me being really hungry, but after that..."

"You just couldn't resist my overwhelming charm and good looks and resorted to brooding, standoffish behavior?" Dean says it all jokingly but he can see the tips of Castiel's ears going red.

"I think you know how cute you are. It can be quite... distracting," Castiel says, and he makes eye contact despite the fact that he's obviously flustered. It's pretty brave in Dean's opinion.

"Hmm, no, I don't think I know. Maybe you should tell me." He's not sure where the confidence came from, or why it feels like he's known Castiel for longer than just a few weeks, but it makes him feel light and warm.

"I would, but I think I should save some of that for our first date. Somewhere a little less greasy, perhaps?" And Dean can't help but melt at that and he really can't wait for this date. Like, really.

"Then what are we still doing here?" Dean asks, already standing up and getting ready to head for the door.

"Aren't you still working?" Dean ponders that for a moment.

"No. I think I just quit." He takes Castiel's hand as they leave the place. He knows he'll have to come back later in the week to return his stuff, but it's okay. He's ready to see McDonald's in a completely new light.

He hears the tell-tale sound of the ice cream machine breaking down just before they're out the door.

Okay, maybe not completely new.

**Author's Note:**

> idk what this is. pls support me 1 like = 1 love


End file.
